


Nightmares

by sureimsherlock (missabigailhobbs)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:23:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1734335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missabigailhobbs/pseuds/sureimsherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's plagued with nightmares; Steve does his best to help. (Post CA:TWS)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

It always starts with the nightmares. Hyperventilating, gasping for oxygen, eyes wide, hair damp with chilled sweat, just like in the movies. Heart pounding, arm flexing and looking around for a threat that doesn’t exist.

Bucky lays back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He still can’t tell if the nightmares are just that, fictional, or if they’re fragments of memory, the screams of people he killed surfacing through decades of conditioning and cryosleep to wreak havoc on his mind.

He’s only been living in Stark Tower for about two weeks before Tony throws a bagel at him at breakfast, leaning over the island in the kitchen and stabbing the air with his fork for emphasis. “You get them too?” he inquired, tilting his head. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky replies coolly, sipping his coffee and staring out over New York. It’s probably psychosomatic, but his arm still aches sometimes, the joint where metal fuses with skin and bone. He stretches his arm anyway, careful not to grab his mug with his left hand. He’s getting better, but he’s still wary of breaking fragile things. Not used to things that aren't supposed to shatter under his grip. He shakes his head as if to clear it, nibbling at the bagel disinterestedly. Tony is still staring at him.

“Dude, there's no shame in it, you know? It happens to all of us,” he says, trying to be at least somewhat understanding, for once, but Bucky just shoots him a dark glare and eventually even Tony gets the message that enough is enough.

It isn't until Steve moves into Stark Tower (for “security reasons”, Pepper had said, although Steve suspected it was more to do with the fact that Tony wanted his friends around him for a perpetual sleepover) that the situation really hits a fever pitch. Steve demands that he and Bucky have rooms next to each other, and they're obliged, but that also means that they share walls, just like back in the Howling Commandos days.

Unable to sleep one night, Steve taps on Bucky's door to see if he's sleeping, if he wants a cup of tea or something. He pokes his head in the door, seeing his friend thrashing around in the throes of what's clearly a horrible dream. He runs over to him, shaking Bucky awake. A cold metal hand wraps around his throat as Bucky's eyes open, and Steve can finally see the killer Bucky used to be – the Winter Soldier, no Bucky Barnes at home.

“Bucky,” Steve gasps, using his not inconsiderate strength to push at Bucky's shoulders, trying to get him to remember. When Bucky's awake enough to realize what he's doing, no longer in the throes of a night terror, he immediately releases Steve's throat. “Oh god, I'm so sorry,” he says, eyes wide with a new kind of anxiety. “Are you alright?”

“Just a few bruises, I'm fine,” Steve assures him, voice a little rough. Not like he's never been choked out before, honestly. He sighs, rubbing his throat. “I couldn't sleep... came to see if you were still awake, see if maybe you wanted some tea or something.”  
Bucky chuckles darkly. “Well, I'm awake now,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “How about hot chocolate?” he suggests, smirking. Steve laughs and nods, getting up and offering Bucky a hand. They pad through the tower, giggling like kids at the thought of 2 am hot chocolate, laughing even louder at the almost forbidden fun of it. They sit together on the balcony overlooking the city, Steve’s left hand loosely cupped in Bucky’s right. 

“You never told me… how did you survive that fall, from the train?” Steve asks quietly, the steam rising from his mug illuminated in the glow of the giant neon letters proclaiming “Stark” just above them. 

“I don’t remember, honestly,” Bucky says with a shrug, sighing. He chuckles. “Look, Ma, I can see my house from here,” he jokes, pointing vaguely in the direction of Brooklyn. Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly and then nudges his shoulder. 

“It’s okay, you know. The nightmares. I get them too,” he confides quietly, looking away from his friend. He knows Bucky won’t want much in the way of sentimentality; they were always soldiers at heart, after all. 

“Apparently that’s a common theme,” Bucky retorts, much too bitter, but then he softens. “Yeah, I figured as much. With a group that’s seen as much war as the guys that hang around here have I’d be surprised if everyone didn’t wake up in cold sweats.” He shakes his head. “Thing is… I can never tell if they’re real, you know? If it’s just a normal made-up nightmare or… or more like a memory.” He sips his hot chocolate, staring into the middle distance. “I figure it doesn’t much matter, either it’s real or it’s not but whoever it was, they’re still dead.” 

Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand, still giving him the privacy of not looking at him, not yet. “I understand. You wake up, not knowing what’s quite real… sleeping for so long, it really messes you up.” He bites his lip. ‘If you want, we can… we can get you a dog or something, or… for now, if you want… I’ll stay in there with you. If you want,” he says, stumbling over his words because the offer’s real but he’s not sure if his friend is in a place to accept that yet. 

There’s a long silence, filled only with the sounds of breathing and traffic from the city that never sleeps, echoing off glass and steel skyscrapers to where they sit, perched above the swirling world below. 

“I think I’d like that,” Bucky says eventually. “A dog, I mean. But for now… well. Someone watching my back can’t hurt.”

Steve smiles. “Just don’t choke me out again, yeah?” he says, only teasing a little, standing up and putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder for a moment, reassuring and grounding him before going inside to wash up his mug. 

Neither of them say much as they settle back down in Steve’s bedroom - it’s got the larger bed, they rationalize, and it’s better lit when the sun comes in through the windows. There’s only a quiet, “Goodnight,” from Steve, and a repeated reply. 

For now, for them, it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing these lovely boys, please let me know what you think! As always, comments and kudos sustain me. Also as always, you can find me at requiemcas on tumblr if you have a prompt, or just want to say hi. Thanks for reading!


End file.
